


Don't Let Go

by neversaydie



Series: Kink Falls AM [3]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Closeted Character, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, Intense cuddling, Kink Negotiation, M/M, No Sex, Platonic BDSM, Secret Relationship, grey-ace sammy, kink is not a doctor approved method of dealing with anxiety, ron is all about consent, sammy stevens is kinda messed up, sammy vs his self esteem, subby!sammy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 16:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: "Settle down, Jack in the Box Jesus," Ron's hand is suddenly firm on the back of his neck, an attempt to keep his attention, and Sammy's breath hitches... just enough that Ron looks at him a little more closely. "Do I gottamakeyou settle?"That inspires a shudder, a shiver of anticipation Sammy can't repress while there's a hand gripping right where Jack used to hold him when he was telling Sammy he was good, so good. Ron squeezes a fraction harder as if testing the waters, and registers Sammy's wide eyes before cocking his head like he's figured something out."Maybe I do," he pushes down, just a fraction, and it's all Sammy needs in this state to hit the floor like a ton of bricks.[in which there's kink negotiation, intense cuddling, and Ron and Sammy'sthinggets a lot more complicated.]





	Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> TW: implied/referenced past abuse: brief allusion to Sammy having personal experience with gaslighting.

Sammy and Ron have a thing.

It's not really a _thing_. It's not romantic at all, neither of them have any feelings that way or intention of making it so, but they're friends who have a physical dimension to their relationship which is mainly about release, relief, and caring. Ron enjoys taking care of someone (and fucking, he's a big fan of that part), and Sammy…

Well, Sammy enjoys fucking too, sometimes. But what he mainly gets out of the relationship is that he's a fucking mess who needs someone to hold him together. And Ron is the strongest guy he knows.

It works, for a while. Whenever things in Sammy's head get too loud, staring at the blank walls of his apartment and his clothes stored in the suitcase at the end of his bed because he never felt like he deserved to get much furniture or really make a home here, he'll text Ron. He'll head over and, if he can, they'll fuck - rough and hard and enough to take Sammy out of himself with the physical immediacy, the feeling of being overwhelmed, owned.

When Sammy can't fuck - not in terms of getting it up, he learned to bullshit his way through a partner being concerned about _that_ well before he and Jack even got together, but in terms of not being able to put up the facade well enough to fool Ron into thinking he wants it (and if Ron doesn't think Sammy's enthusiastically consenting, then it ain't gonna happen) - he's somehow surprised by the fact that Ron is still… nice. They'll cuddle, or spoon up together, and Sammy will close his eyes and revel in the contact and pretend he's safe.

It works, for a while. Until Sammy's head gets louder than it's been since before he came to King Falls. Until Emily is back and Frickard is an abusive asshole, and Sammy tries to talk about gaslighting without choking but it doesn't help anything. He waits until Ben leaves the parking lot after the show before he calls Ron, because his hands are shaking too hard to drive and he's not drinking to make them artificially still anymore.

Ron finds him sitting next to the car with his head between his knees, once he makes it up the mountain in the dim grey light of dawn. He gets one look at Sammy and doesn't ask any questions, just hauls him up (rough and solid and yes, that's what Sammy needs, something to anchor him when he's lost in the howling winds) and shoves him into the passenger seat, muttering something about picking up the other car later as he gets them back on the road.

By the time they get back to Ron's place, Sammy has come out of his stupor and started talking. He runs his mouth when he's anxious, sometimes, when his mind is going too fast and his body struggles to keep up with any coherency. Jack used to be able to gentle him out of it, mostly, put his arms around Sammy and stroke his hair in slow, constant passes until the pace brought his boyfriend's rabbiting heart back down to earth.

But gentleness left his life when Jack did, so the torrent of words goes unchecked as Sammy follows Ron into his house and ends up trembling in the kitchen, unable to get himself together enough to pick up the glass of water he's been given while Ron watches him with concern.

This is so embarrassing. Did he just say that out loud?

"Yeah, you did," Ron touches Sammy's elbow cautiously, like he's not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. "You're making me nervous, Stevens."

"Sorry. Shit. Sorry. It's not- I'm just-" Sammy gestures tightly with one unsteady hand as he tries to get himself together enough to explain 'I have panic attacks and my boyfriend used to do kinky shit to calm me down'. God, he's a mess. "Fuck, all I do is apologise to you. Sorry. I'm not a- This isn't-"

"Settle down, Jack in the Box Jesus," Ron's hand is suddenly firm on the back of his neck, an attempt to keep his attention, and Sammy's breath hitches... just enough that Ron looks at him a little more closely. "This okay?"

Why is he being careful? What the fuck did Sammy even say in the car on the way over here? Did he mention Jack? Did he mention  _Eric_? Shit. Nobody knows about Jack, but even Jack only knew the bare minimum about-

Ron is looking at him like he expects an answer, so Sammy manages a nod, sort of.

"Take a breath, for shit's sake. I ain't going nowhere while you're shaking fit to tear yourself apart," it doesn't do much to calm the situation, especially not when Sammy accidentally makes a noise in the back of his throat when Ron stops touching him. Ron freezes, that questioning look still flickering across his face, and sets his large, warm hand back down on Sammy's neck. "Do I gotta _make_ you settle?"

That inspires a shudder, a shiver of anticipation Sammy can't repress while there's a hand gripping right where Jack used to hold him when he was telling Sammy he was good, so good. Ron squeezes a fraction harder as if testing the waters, and registers Sammy's wide eyes before cocking his head like he's figured something out.

"Maybe I do," he pushes down, just a fraction, and it's all Sammy needs in this state to sink to his knees. He hits the floor like a ton of bricks, and this time Ron is the wide-eyed one.

Sammy would be more surprised at his own behaviour if he wasn't so out of it right now. Why is he doing this? Why can't he just be normal?

"Was this what you wanted? The whole time?" He ducks down a little but Sammy won't meet his eyes, blushing furiously as he stares at the floor. He feels _naked_ , his insides exposed for the world to see. Ron sounds surprisingly soft, which is a good thing because Sammy's not sure how much bluster he can take right now. "Hell, Sammy. You could've just told me."

"I-I didn't…" his voice is cracking, he realises dimly, and he tries to steady himself to no avail. He's finally speechless, like the tidal wave of words has dried up at the source. "I didn't know what to say."

"Well, you need to start talking. Can't be messing around with this shit without setting some ground rules," Ron watches Sammy tie himself in knots for a minute before he cups his chin and turns his face up to look at him. Sammy can see the nerves behind his calm demeanour, but the fact Ron isn't going to put himself through anything he doesn't want reassures him that he's in safe hands. "You need to get your head clear first before you can spit it out?"

Sammy nods, mouth suddenly dry. Jack always just knew when he was headed off the rails, knew what he needed and how to give it to him without Sammy saying a word.

Ron squints, sizing him up with his hand still tight on Sammy's jaw - not to be argued with.

"What did you usually do?"

"You can do anything," Sammy blurts out suddenly, to Ron's raised eyebrows. "You can beat my ass or fuck me or choke me or-"

"Woah, slow down," Ron lets him go and Sammy almost whines because he's blown it. He had a chance and he fucked it up. He feels rudderless once more, lost at sea in the dark. "There's no way you're in a place to consent to any of that right now."

"I- I don't care. Please, Ron," the tremor in his limbs has spread to his voice now, all adrenaline and fear. "I can't-"

"Settle," Ron puts a heavy hand on his shoulder and Sammy takes a breath, finally. "Don't panic. I'm not saying no, I'm saying we're gonna find a way to help you out without hurting you. Hear me?"

Sammy nods, relaxing just a fraction under the reassuring pressure of Ron's hand. Shame coils oily and thick in his gut at the feeling, because he shouldn't want this so badly. When it was within his relationship it was one thing, but to seek it out - to _crave_ it, _need_ it in order to function like a normal person - makes him feel more broken than not being interested in sex ever did.

"Again, tell me what you usually did. Before," Ron repeats, patiently, and watches closely while Sammy pulls himself together enough to speak.

"He… He'd tie me up," god, he misses Jack so much he can't breathe. He's not even saying his name and it hurts. "Until I… my head got quiet. I'd… it would get really quiet, for a while."

"Like subspace?" Ron clarifies, giving a low whistle when Sammy nods. Dimly - given what he's gleaned about the rest of Ron's sex life as an out and proud messiah to the closeted small town masses - Sammy isn't surprised that he seems to be well-versed in kink. "Okay, he tied you up. He hold you down too?"

"Yeah. He'd… wouldn't let me move," Sammy is grateful Ron doesn't say Jack's name. He wouldn't be able to hold it together if he heard it right now, he's barely keeping himself composed as it is.

"Okay, that's good," Ron strokes a hand over his hair, not gentle but never clumsy, and Sammy feels a little of that warm quietness tugging at the back of his mind because yes, he wants to be good. "What did you get out of it? What did you like?"

"I… I liked not having to decide," he explains, almost shy now his adrenaline-soaked body has caught up with the fact that Ron doesn't think he's disgusting - is actually going to help him with the fact he doesn't feel like he's even inside his own skin anymore. "Someone else being in charge was… I needed that. Need that."

"So that's why you get all starry eyed when I boss you around some, huh?" Sammy almost flinches when he thinks he's being mocked, but catches the affection just before the damage is done. He looks up to see Ron watching him fondly, slightly pained expression half-hidden in the way Sammy remembers Jack looking when he'd get a little too down on himself out loud. "So not being in control, okay. D'you gotta get hurt as well, or…?"

"I-"

"Not for right now, not tonight," Ron clarifies quickly, apparently freaked out by the fact Sammy already tried to get him to do _anything_ to make his head stop - up to and including choking him out. "Just, in general like."

"Sometimes. It's not… essential," Sammy swallows hard, working hard to not think about the arguments he and Jack had about self-preservation and how far was too far. His fingers twitch with the need to explain, even though he's not completely sure about what this stuff means himself. "It's not even sexual, or it doesn't have to be. It's just. I mean. It's- It's the being out of control and being able to let someone else take the wheel and- I panic when I get too- I don't know why-"

"Sugar, you're getting amped up again," Ron presses two fingers to Sammy's lips to quiet him this time, and Sammy's not sure if the resulting shiver is because he's being dominated or because apparently he likes the way _sugar_ rumbles out of Ron's broad chest. "Alright, I think I get it. We can work with this."

It's so careful, the way Ron helps him up off the floor because he's clearly still half out of his goddamn mind, that Sammy almost flinches away from the touch. He doesn't need gentle, doesn't _deserve_ gentle, can't _have_ gentle without Jack, and he only relaxes when Ron takes his upper arm firmly and leads him to the bedroom.

"I- Ron, I'm sor-"

"Don't apologise, everyone's got their shit. I got you," Ron shoves him onto the bed, none too gentle, and Sammy is relieved because he _needs_ this. "Take your shirt off."

Sammy isn't exactly shy about his body when he's here - Ron's seen it enough - but he hesitates before obeying, just for a second. The adrenaline that seeps through his veins when he's being ordered to do something feels totally different from panic or fear, and it's been so long since he felt it that he takes a moment to identify it.

"Did I stutter?" Ron prompts, which has Sammy scrambling to yank his shirt off while Ron does the same… at a more sedate pace. He seems to be evaluating the situation as he goes along, assessing Sammy's behaviour at the same time, because Sammy knows the state he was in freaked Ron out… and that the guy is doing a great job of pretending he knows what he's doing here.

It reminds Sammy of that first night, of Jack at his most falsely confident and cocky as he handcuffed Sammy to the headboard and Sammy just… went away. The image of Jack on top of him - fastening the handcuffs and then smiling, warm and proud as Sammy slipped out of his head - has Sammy sitting up abruptly, almost startled by the force of the devastation rolling through his gut.

"No," Ron pushes him back down immediately, pinning him to the bed without having to try too hard, and Sammy can't help the surprised gasp he lets out. Ron follows him onto the mattress, taking in the glazed look in Sammy's eyes and following its lead. "C'mere."

He manhandles Sammy into position until he has him right where he wants him - pinned against his chest and wrapped tightly in his tree-trunk arms - and Ron quickly hooks his legs around Sammy's too when the guy realises what's happening and starts to struggle.

"I don't- Ron, you don't-" he tries to escape the hold - and Ron didn't wrestle for long in high school, but he's fucked plenty of guys over the years who liked to be overpowered - growing increasingly resistant when he realises he really can't break free. " _Ron-_ "

"You ain't getting outta this unless I let you, so settle down," Ron tightens his hold, surprised by the wounded noise Sammy makes when he finally stills, head falling onto his collarbone in defeat. "Good. Now tell me what's wrong with this."

"I-I don't…" Sammy's lips against his skin make Ron shiver, but there really isn't anything sexual about this, not when Sammy's still wound so tight he seems like he might just break in half. "I don't deserve it."

That gives Ron pause, but Sammy doesn't elaborate so he has to probe further.

"What… being held?" He looks down in disbelief when Sammy nods, rubbing his cheek against Ron's chest and taking comfort in the contact in spite of his insistent self-flagellation. "Jesus, somebody really did a number on you."

Sammy seems to shrink into himself at that, and Ron squeezes him tighter in some kind of wordless apology. It's really not the time for this.

"Ain't up to you what you deserve, alright? You just be a good boy and take what I give you," and _that_ seems to do the trick, as Sammy finally relaxes against him - arms pinned between their chests, legs twisted together between Ron's. It can't be comfortable, but it's the first time Ron's ever actually seen the tension leave his body. "There you go, don't fight it. I got you."

They stay like that for over an hour, pressed together tight enough to be one body, lazily kissing a little whenever Sammy starts to cycle back up from wherever he's gone in his head, but otherwise just revelling in the hard-earned calm. Ron only lets go once he's sure Sammy's actually asleep (he's only seen subspace a handful of times, and he's not sure Sammy even went down that far tonight, but he's not going to take any chances), and tucks the guy tightly into bed with some vague thought to keeping him feeling secure for longer.

The sun has come up by the time Ron emerges back into the real world (after showering and having a very conflicted jerk-off session under the water), and he dithers over leaving for work for one of the first times in his life. The bait and tackle won't run itself, and Ron can count on both hands the number of days off he's taken in the past five years, but he doesn't like the idea of Sammy waking up alone after whatever the hell his head had been doing last night.

Ron ends up going to work - leaving a note telling Sammy to call when he wakes up - but when he comes back on his lunch break, Sammy is still out cold. With his tangled hair loose and curled out around his face, arms wrapped around a pillow, he looks peaceful for the first time since he arrived in King Falls.

Ron brushes the hair off his face, presses a kiss that feels somehow guilty to his forehead, and lets Sammy sleep. Their _thing_ just got a lot more complicated.


End file.
